Scarlet Sins
by Grell-Sutcliff-san
Summary: Two hearts who hunger for the revenge they feel that they deserve. They paint the streets of London in blood, dreaming that they will give birth to the twentieth century. However, what happens when love gets in the way? GrellxMadame Red. Graphic content
1. Chapter 1

**Scarlet Sins**

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) or any characters, themes, concepts, or trademarks. All copyrights belong to Yana Toboso.

His eyes were upon her face, a fair porcelain face shaped by ruby red hair. The blood shimmered upon her rosy cheeks, her tears mixing with the crimson ribbons-making the crime have a purpose. His grin gave her the chills. Thus, he grinned, bearing his teeth like sharp, pearly spikes. She was under his spell, and they both knew it. Everytime the maniac, draped in red, like the sky above them was draped in stars, Angelina felt like she was doing something right-she felt like the more she shed cold blood, the more he loved her. Love was a dangerous game, but oh how it ensnared her senses to perform something so wicked and cruel with the help of a kindred soul she thought would only remain a trusted ally. No more, no less a partner in crime that would be the second half of the Jack The Ripper tag team. It was always that way.

Until she fell in love.

The delicate gloved fingers of the perpetrator embraced the chainsaw's handle. Grell held it proudly, like a queen holding her scepter before her loyal subjects. The whore's eye twitched before it rolled into the back of her head-eyes wide closed forever. Giggling with a elegant air, Grell placed a hand on his Lady's shoulder, who stared at the young harlot in utter shock-shock that shook her alert that she had in fact committed such an act. An act of a cold-blooded murderer.

"You did well, Angelina," Grell grinned into her ear. "You clean the streets well. What a lovely shade she bleeds, look!"

Angelina nodded. "Filthy street slut."

Grell began to chuckle sadistically, almost licking her ear but no less grabbing the opportunity to bring her to him.

He held her, chainsaw pressed to her back. No escape.

"You are a good girl, Angelina. You will make us famous! You and me, me and you! A most extraordinary duet! People will look back and say we gave birth to the twentieth century!*"

She nodded again, resting her blood-stained face into his shoulder as he laughed in splendor, his voice echoing in the empty streets of downtown London. Grell Sutcliff loved red, he loved murder of prostitutes, he loved a certain demon for as long as he could remember. He loved love. He was in love with all that embraces his feminine and female fatal characteristics.

Angelina was not love.

Angelina was not nothing.

Angelina was not ordinary.

Angelina was his scarlet sin, his crimson marionette. He loved her and all her love's dreams, revenges, and fate. One could say that Grell Sutcliff fell in love with a woman.

TBC...

* "People will look back and say that I gave birth to the twentieth century" was a famous quote by Jack the Ripper.


	2. Chapter 2

**Scarlet Sins**

The young prostitute looked no day older than fifteen. However, age did not matter. To Jack the Ripper, a whore was a whore, and London feared their hidden performance, their medium where they worked with blood liked other artists worked with paints or oils. Madame Red ripped off her bloody gloves and replaced them with new ones. She couldn't stand touching the body of a worthless strumpet. As Grell marveled at the shimmering rubies dripping from his chainsaw, Madame Red dragged the freshly mutilated corpse by her long ponytail, tangled with dirt and caked with mud, and dumped her in a ditch near a great sycamore by a pond. This particular murder happened in a back ally, a hidden corner where the petite harlot probably did business with a young soldier boy or a mere street dweller. Either way, her business was closed down, never opened again.

Madame Red stared into the ditch. She walked away after a moment, without a word, her boots clicking in tiny echoes. A few feet across cobble-stones roads and a climb of a small knoll, and Grell greeted her return with a glint in his eyes. His face, so handsome and effeminate, struck a warmth in her cold cheeks, a feeling she knew would forever remain distant from her. How wrong she was.

"Why, Madame," Grell asked, walking closer with a handkerchief stretched out towards her. "Are you blushing, or is that just the blood upon your pretty face?" She accepted the cloth, wiping her face swiftly before the constables began doing their rounds in the area.

"Enough, Grell," she said, the fabric hiding her growing blush. "Let us go home."

Grell bowed like a proper butler, grinning even more. His lavish red hair fell over his shoulders, looking like flowing red ribbons in the rainy wind. "Your wish is my command, Madame. You must sure be in need of well-deserved rest after a full-night's work." He took her hand, his teeth slipping the rubber glove off with a seductive smirk. "A full night's work," he repeated. "I wonder, are we to work more tonight?" He leaned closer, placing a chaste kiss upon her hand. When he moved away, standing erect, his hair was fading to a dark brown, his teeth less sharp, his face more soft. "M-Madame," he stuttered, looking shy and unsure. Madame Red took her hand from his, scowling.

"Escort me home, Grell. Now. That's an order." The human Grell nodded, looking like a scolded child who knew they got caught at something.

"Y-Yes, M-Madame." He offered his arm; she accepted. Under the full moon, in silence, the two criminal master minds walked down the road, toward the mansion where they lived in their shared solitude.

Under the sheets, the heavy taffeta blankets with intimate detail of classic Victorian patterns, a soft glimmering azure light leaked through the crevices of the window, shining shyly through the drapery of Madame Red's sleeping quarters. Her bed, a massive canopy of red, deep burgundy dancing with gold designs, a carpet of ruby desire, a bed curtain surrounding her future slumbers. Grell laid there, warm and comfortable in the soft comforters, all curled up like a kitten. He blushed heavily, watching behind the curtain as the black shadow of his mistress undresses herself, down to her corset and garters.

Ever since he began serving as Angelina Dalles' butler, Grell always slept in the same bed as her. She would almost always clutch to him, making him turn more red than the shade of her hair. One night, in the dead silence, she scooted over to him and began to touch him under the sheets, softly. Like a virgin, Grell had never been touched by a woman. His meek whimpers fueled her desire to touch him more. From what Grell recalled, he came in her hand, but nothing more took place.

Madame Red unlaced her corset. It fell, and Grell blushed, blushed at the exciting fact that just past the bedpost curtain stood his Madame-nude, innocent, and alone with him. He sank further under the covers. The lowest region of his stomach felt a tingle of dull, coiling thrill, all after Madame Red pulled the curtain back and crawled into bed dressed in a partially see-through red nightgown with black trimming. She cuddled into her pillow, facing Grell with a soft smile.  
"I apologize for acting unlike myself this evening," she said quietly, as if she was telling her butler a well-guarded secret. "You know how I get sometimes, Grell. I look at those women and...what they have, I should have...it makes me feel inferior to them, those whores who have done nothing for society, nothing for anyone else, nothing for themselves..." She became misty-eyed, looking away. "It's not fair, Grell. It's not fair." A tear traced her cheek, a silver line in the pale moonlight. Grell's heart began to ache, for he hated seeing his Madame sad.

"M-Madame...p-p-please weep not," he begged while his shaking hand brushed her tear away. "You are better than they are...better in my eyes at least. I-I may...I-I mean..."

An awkward silence hung between them. Madame Red stared at her butler long enough to miss the memo that their lips suddenly were mere inches apart from touching. Grell's deep chocolate hair sprawled across his pillow, making him look ironically angelic, glasses absent. He could feel his heart pulsate in his chest along with an erect cock covered by blankets, a nightgown, and the dark.

'_S-She's so beautiful...red lips, red hair, rosy cheeks, pale skin, so c-close, so close, close to me,' _Grell thought, whimpering her name. "M-Madame-" she hushed him with a quick kiss on the lips.

"Call me Angelina." Without another word, she covered his mouth with hers, his eyes wide with shock, her eyes closed, ready for pleasure, ready for him.

Ready to feel the love that can snare even the most bloodiest criminal minds.

Midnight.

The cathedral bells tolled one after another, and with each toll that struck in the dead air, a piece of clothing hit the floor.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Scarlet Sins**

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) or any characters, themes, concepts, or trademarks. All copyrights belong to Yana Toboso.

The raw, jagged, electric spark that erupted from her panting voice mixed with the settling, meek whimpering of his danced in rhythm as the last cathedral bell tolled. The first request was a simple one to begin with. Madame Red asked Grell to kiss her and not hold anything back, a mutual exercise they both participated in with their hungry desire, their busy tongues, and hot bodies-bodies that began to become lubricated with beads of sweat. Grell, sweet-minded human butler Grell, awkwardly fumbled with the buttons of his Lady's nightgown, was thrilled yet a nervous wreck. It was more of a challenge to be a suave, charming young bloke than how his dreams depicted him- a sexually confident "young woman", who lured Sebastian with his feminine charms, and flashed a sweet smile, a seductive glint in his eyes and a show of his smooth skin upon his thigh. Only in his dreams had he and Sebastian made love so heart-pounding, so hot and so right that Grell woke in joyous splendor to his own essence caked into the sheets as the soul proof that he, in fact, had a pent-up sexual urgency to be touched, and Madame Red was fulfilling that need now.

"Grell, tear it off if you need to," Madame Red panted in his ear, licking it to encourage him. On the other hand, Grell did not need encouragement now due to how thick and throbbing his erection was pressing against her inner thigh, begging to be touched, licked, sucked, inside of her. Release.

Grell looked at her, in wild bemusement. "B-But, Madame, I-"

"I told you to call me, Angelina, Grell." A kiss was planted at the crook of his neck, a place she knew was tender to the touch.

"Ah! A-Angelina...Oh!" Grell shuddered, jerking his hands apart, in turn ripping the nightgown down the middle, the buttons falling to the ground in various clicking arrays. His face fell, but his cock grew towards the sky even more at the site of her there-kneeling down, legs parted, round breasts that glowed in the pale light, skin the shamed a newly born's smoothness, and a sexy set of curves.

"O-Oh my...o-oh God, I-I am sorry! Th-That was y-your nightgown, A-Angelina! I-I am so sorry, it was so pretty on you, I am sorry, I'll kill myself if you want me to....to...O-Oh..."

Madame Red groaned as she pressed herself into Grell's nude frame, causing him to blush more, but he held her as they fell back together, kissing passionately as if they had never kissed anyone else before. "I don't care about that old thing," she whispered between kisses, her hand traveling down to Grell's aching pleasure. "All I care about is now is you, how you are making me want you, how I want you to make me scream, make me come, make me crave you, and make me want to make you want me more than a whore's blood upon your chainsaw."

"Angelina...yes," he moaned. He answered to her hand around his cock by bucking his hips, eager for her to touch him there more. How sinful this was! How delicious, how forbidden! Madame Red saw the shades of red spread across her butler's face, tears building up in his beautiful emerald pools that reflected her image. He smiled in serenity, so much in the moment shared between them. His smile made him look like the Virgin Mary.

Their swollen lips kissed and kissed, Grell turned his attention in a kind, respectful manner to her neck. He pierced her skin, biting her, marking her as his own, then kissing the marks to sooth the pain. She cried his name before straddling his hips, cock still in hand. From the tip, pearls dripped which formed small white ribbons all over her hand, a sweet lubricant for her hand to pump him faster-the sweet scent of dead roses and honey. The promise of those ribbons decorating inside of her enticed the beckoning of her trembling spirit, her whole self, to settle upon her servant's pulsating knife while it slide inside of her. A perfect fit, like a glove; a wild, untamed moan escaped from her lips as her body made itself at home upon Grell, rocking her hips with his frantically.

"A-Angelina, A-Ah! Oh...fuck!" His hands immediately clapped over his mouth. Grell was shocked that such a filthy word came from his vocabulary. He fearfully looked up at his mistress, who was looking down on him with half-lidded eyes curtained with pleasure, riding him.

"Why, Grell..." She rose, then fell, rose then fell hard. "Such vulgarity. If I did not know better...ah! I-I would think that you had a mouth of a common harlot." Her moans bounced off the walls, casting a song, a symphony, only the two could sing along to. "Naughty boy, Grell...so naughty!"

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Angelina...f-forgive me!" Grell pushed up inside her, his length felt so warm and protected it seemed that he himself had melted inside of her-melted and became one person with her, his Angelina. "Angelina...ah!" The quality of his quivering need, his dazed words that possessed a hint of erratic wildness, gave birth to his transition from brown hair to a dazzling red, straight, white teeth to sharp, gleaming ones, and a slightly larger body mass. Madame Red felt his cock grow inside of her, almost breaking her entire self, yet she wanted it to grow more, like a seedling blossoming into a plump, mature rose with dew falling gently from its petals. Before her widening eyes, there was Grell, the Grell she had met years before. Her scarlet sin, the redness that leaked from her heart but in a Shinigami form shamed the reddest rose, and brought joy to her damaged heart and weeping loneliness.

"Why, Angelina, how beautiful you look!" He held her hips steady and firm. "Would you care to partake in a vigorous exercise with me? We girls have to stay in," he thrusted up inside her more, "tip-top shape."

"Oh God, yes, Grell," she whimpered. "Work me to the bone. You shall not regret it."

"Yes, my Lady."

Soundlessly, the night began to age. Like distilled liquor, the later hours brought a more pure, sweeter taste. Sometime between Madame Red riding Grell to spilling herself over his exploding length, his cum soaking, leaking from her entrance, to her sucking Grell's length, swallowing all he could offer, to Grell flipping his Lady on her back against the fluffy pillows, his prey right where he wanted her.

Grell stroked Madame Red's cheek, looking genuinely euphoric and happy. "Angelina," he breathed out, his signature grin causing her to become wet and excited again. She smiled back.

"I love you, Grell." Madame Red never meant for those three words, those eight little letters, to come out, especially with his name followed after. It just...came out. It was, however, the truth, and if there was one thing Madame Red valued over anything was being true to herself as a woman. She looked at him directly, yet on the inside, she was nervous.

In all her life, Madame Red felt like she was standing upon a great precipice, dangling from a ripping thread with nobody to pull her back to safety, nobody to tell her to be strong. Inside her own soul, she was screaming. Her voice powerful, operatic, a shriek that belonged in a torture chamber that nobody could hear-except Grell. He was right here, loving her,trusting her, promising such a strong contract with her, it was like marriage. '_What a sinful woman I am,' _she thought while Grell slide inside of her, and at last she was fulfilled-completely.

"I love you, t-too, Angelina. Oh...God, how tight you are, my Lady," Grell moaned in her ear as he pushed into her more, burying himself up to the hilt. "Ah! Spread your legs! Let me in, mon ami, let me in." Madame Red spread her legs as far as she could, feeling Grell's length move in further then withdrawing slowly, painfully. "N-No...stay, please stay, don't leave me...alone," she begged, tears suddenly cascading down her face. _'Don't leave me, please don't leave me! Don't leave me like he did. He who chose my sister...he who could've loved me! Don't leave me! God took my husband, my child, they left me...don't leave. Stay, Grell...stay...with me. Stay! Please!'_

The movements ceased from both parties. Madame Red upheld a strong facade to conceal her true nature-the tragic and downtrodden girl of a wealthy family that was terrified of being left behind again. Thus, she latched onto Grell, crying. Grell froze. Again, he did not like seeing his Lady cry. Soft caresses and chaste kisses were his gift to her. His presence, his love, his everything was solace in itself to her.

"I will stay, Angelina. Forever, if you want me to."

"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes, Grell." She kissed him. "Grell, love me, make me feel you, make me bleed, make me scream, make me want, make me feel alive, just prove to me that you are here, loving me, wanting me, keeping me from rotting away in my own sorrow!"

Grell swallowed the lump in his throat, turning a new shade of crimson. He felt like he was being reborn. He was falling in love. Real love. "Yes, Angelina, My Lady."

They were not having sex. They were making love. Together.

"Grell!" was what she cried after he bit deep into her neck, tasting her delicious blood, an elixir he could drink forever along with her wetness. He slammed into her repeatedly, hearing his deep grunts of pleasure mix with her elegant moans of wanting him to bring her to the point of no return. Wrapping her legs around his slim waist, locking her ankles, pulling him in deeper, created a deep rhythm between the two scarlet sweethearts.

"Oh! So naughty! Oh, you bad girl!" Grell moaned. "Oh, I am cumming...ah! AH! O-Ohhh! Oh, yes, hahahaha! Angelina!"

"Grell! Yes! Yes! Ah!" Madame Red screamed his name before she felt herself cum with him.

He collapsed like a timbering sycamore upon her trembling body, aching in the sweet afterglow. He panted in her ear, red hair dispersed over him, over her-a blanket of red acting as their cocoon, a personal shelter to protect them from their horrid solitude the world so bitterly gave them.

"I love you, Angelina," Grell said weakly, holding her close. Holding him in return, she remained mum. There were no words needed to describe the small piece of happiness she felt at that very time and moment.

At last, asleep at sunrise, the two scarlet sins found repose.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**Scarlet Sins**

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) or any characters, themes, concepts, or trademarks. All copyrights belong to Yana Toboso.

Their bodies were tangled together when the glowing rays of the afternoon sun peeked into Madame Red's bedroom. Fingers laced, blankets draped around their waists and legs, the heavy scent of perfume and sex hung in the air.

Grell opened his eyes slowly, the intense transition from night to day a little to quick for him. Still a shinigami, he brought the blankets up to keep his beloved Lady warm. There was a brief minute where he wished the body he just made love with and drew the blanket to keep over was the demon butler he longed loved since before he could remember. However, he dismissed the thought reluctantly. He loved Madame Red, Angelina. He fell in love with a woman. Who would have thunk it!

However, there was this thought that haunted his mind, even to this moment:

_'Sebastian...we could have made beautiful babies, passionate love every night, gentle warmth in each other's arms, soft kisses, an unprecedented romance. But...you....you...'_

His thoughts were suddenly cut off when he noticed his Lady stir. Her eyes fluttered open, like Sleeping Beauty awakening after a long and peaceful slumber, looking up at her Prince Charming. She smiled.

"Good morning, Angelina!" Grell squealed, casting his voice an octave higher. His voice usually sounded like this when he got exceedingly excited, usually when Sebastian caught his eye which resulted in Grell launching himself to him for a hug or kiss.

A smile was his reward. "Grell, must you be so...energetic this early in my awakening?" Madame Red asked with a silent yawn that followed shyly after. Grell's smile faded a little, but he hid it with a nuzzle to her neck.

"I apologize, but you make me feel like my heart could leap out of my chest and sing a song!" he half lied to her. "You, Angelina." Another nuzzle. He was always a cuddle-bug in the morning. Madame Red, stretching like a most elegant feline, wrapped herself in the white sheet that cradled her body last night as she was getting ravished. Goosebumps birthed up and down her arms. It was a cool morning, but sunny nonetheless.

"Grell..." she blushed, reluctantly. "Make us some breakfast. I shall take my leave to a bath."

"Grell blinked, then smiled. "Yes, My Lady." He, too, wrapped himself in a sheet, groping around for his clothes dispersed all over the floor. Madame Red quickly left the room while he was distracted, hurrying down the elongated hallway, past various paintings and creating a gust in her dash that left the curtains dancing in midair-the white sheet appearing as a ghost twirling behind her, or a bride's veil catching up to her as she dashed away with her husband into the sunset. Upon reaching the bathroom, she slammed the door, leaning against it, locking it as if for protection. Her face was flushed bright red, a perfect shade for her. Her heart was racing, a delicate difference from last night. _'Oh my...Grell, what is this feeling? Last night was just a release of loneliness...nothing special, nothing planned. Then why...can I not control this sudden urge to touch you?'_

The transition frommadness into gingerly determinism is quite distinct, especially for Grell Sutcliff. His transformation from a Death God to a human took a smooth turn this time, out of fear he would be late preparing breakfast. He struggled with his clothes, allowing small, squeaks escape from his quivering lips. _'We...made love. M-Madame and I...o-oh gosh!'_ Grell was used to romantic and erotic escapades with his mistress on almost a nightly basis, but last night, for him, was...special. His butler's uniform was well put together, giving him a boost of confidence that he could very well make a breakfast fir to serve Queen Victoria.

The passing hours resulted in the two not talking much, just lost in their own thoughts. Grell burned the breakfast. Madame Red ate it anyway, as an appreciation from the Lady of the Household to her servant. The silence was heavy, like a hanging guillotine waiting to fall and behead one of them. Just the clicking of china and the clanking of silverware spoke between them. Grell's hand were shaking the whole meal, creating the perfect excuse as to why he continuously spilled milk while pouring it, dropped trays while carrying them, and burnt or melted practically all of the food he prepared. The blushing facade never faltered from his face, and shy glances were enough to signal to Madame Red that her butler was experiencing the side-affects of a "morning-after sex" syndrome. Madame smiled to herself. She thought Grell could be so cute sometimes.

_'Sebastian...you did not want...you chose...'_ As Grell poured the tea, his mind was elsewhere, somewhere far, far away.

"Grell? The tea?" Madame Red insisted, which snapped Grell out of his lost thoughts.

"O-Oh, yes...c-coming, Madame!"

"Are you alright?" she asked, a rawness in her voice, a need going unfulfilled.

"Do beg my pardon, ma'am," Grell whimpered sadly. "I-I am not myself at the moment."

She blinked, titling her head back. Her eyes narrowed, as if she was studying a great painting. "How so?" With her ears open, she listened for the words she knew Grell would say.

He swallowed. Hard. "W-Well, I keep thinking of..." _'What would happen if Sebastian wanted me to love him...and me being loved in return?' _"I keep thinking of you, Madame, and how happy you made me last night." His blush grew like a blooming rose bud, which in turn made Madame Red follow suite.

"Me?" She seemed surprised, taken aback almost. "You are too kind, Grell," she smiled softly. _'I did not expect that out of him, not at all.'_

The tea they shared was not sweet, nor was it satisfying. The deceiving tension poisoned the tea, the elixir called twisted romance.

They needed each other to love, to survive.

Scarlet sins, loving something that will never be theirs.

TBC...

((Author's Note: Hey, everyone! Sorry this chapter is so short. I am trying to work out the plot more, but college has been keeping me exceedingly busy. Thank-you all for your comments, favorites, and support! I will keep working on this story :) Cheers!))


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